RWBY: A Third Kind of Person
by Jarl of the North
Summary: The Four Kingdoms of Remnant are at peace. The only threats the world must face now are the Grimm, and those that hide in plain sight; the monsters known as Ghouls. Or at least, that's what most would assume. This peace is a lie; a lie that is slowly being worn away as War stirs upon the horizon. Victory may not be found in strength, but survival will not be found in weakness.
1. Prologue I: Rain

I do not own RWBY or Tokyo Ghoul or the content of either one. Trust me, things would go VERY WRONG if I did.

Just note that this will be VERY OC heavy, with two completely new teams added to the three Canon ones. The main characters will still be integral to the plot, but for what I'm aiming for, I need a larger cast that I'm familiar with for it to work.

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><p>NARRATOR<p>

_If one could look into the past, they might interpret the legends that had been passed down to them differently._

_Indeed, the Grimm did set their sights upon Man after they were born from the Dust._

_Indeed, Man did find the tools, the power to match the might of that which would destroy them._

_But Dust?_

_Dust alone?_

_Don't be so absurd.  
><em>

_If Dust alone were enough, the world would be a far more peaceful place, and Man would not have such a bloody history behind them._

_Why do you think the Faunus were created? Are they not a branch of Man as well?_

_They simply relied on a different force to combat the darkness, a far more primal and unrefined form of Dust long lost to the ravages of time that led them to develop animalistic features that Humans did not bear, much like Humans relied on Dust to fight the Grimm._

_Much like their siblings-_

A sigh sounded in the shadows as the page came to an abrupt end, once more disappointing the boy who held the journal. The following breath was a sound of disappointment that his expectations had once again been fulfilled; no matter how many times he read through this entry, it always ended right there. The vast majority of what remained of the entry having been torn free.

Shaking his head, he flipped the page, repeating the final words of the journal's previous owner in his head.

_The Ghouls have not forgotten._

_And the machinations of war are beginning to stir..._

_- Vigil_

He shuddered as he read the name aloud.

"Vigil."

So familiar, yet so foreign, like a long forgotten friend whom you can no longer say you know.

Putting the journal aside, he instead turned his attention to the world around him, making one last check to make sure that he had not been followed. Upon confirming that he indeed had not been tailed, he sighed, slumping against the brick wall and sliding into a sitting position.

This night was a cold one.

That much was obvious, with the black clouds obscuring what should have been a flawless evening sky, and the cold rain pattering against the concrete.

The boy sighed once more, drawing his knees to his chest in an attempt to conserve the heat of his body in vain, his hair interweaving, tangled strands of white and navy blue beneath the shadows of his hood, stretching to his lower neck. Staring blankly at the brick wall before him on the other side of the alleyway were eyes reminiscent of bare, fertile soil - carved obsidian in spheres of marble.

As the hours crept by, he slipped his hand into the depths of his gray hood, and pulled out the small stack of slightly crinkled papers that would decide his fate... if he wasn't identified and caught by Hunters first.

Emblazoned across the top of the page like a proud title was the name Vic Drakul - and though the name would mean little to most, it rang in his head like belittling praise. Like condescending acknowledgement.

A false blessing he wanted to throw away, yet desperately clung to.

The picture on the left side displayed him in full - a black vest over top of a gray and white hood that stretched all the way down his arms to his wrists, a fingerless glove on his left hand, his right having been left bare. His skin was pale - almost unnaturally so - and had been burned in places by the sun when the picture was taken. His legs and hips were obscured by the tanned, worn jeans he'd become so accustomed to, his shoes worn to near ruin. A plain white t-shirt, stained to some colour he was fairly certain Mankind wasn't supposed to be able to recognize by countless messes, hung across his chest.

The only thing that seemed out of place to him on this picture was the smile he wore.

If it had been a confident smirk or a legitimately friendly grin - perhaps if it had even been a mischievous chuckle - it wouldn't seem so... alien to him.

Instead, what stared at him through the window granted by the ink on the paper was a carefree smile - an expression of innocence he no longer possessed.

He wasn't convinced he ever had that kind of innocence to begin with, at times.

Carefully tucking the paper away once more, Vic directed his gaze upwards, allowing the rain to hit his face.

He wasn't quite sure how he felt about this kind of weather. At times, it had its own form of charm, the raindrops washing away the sorrows of life, the chill in the air breathing renewed life and passion into the lungs of those it embraced like the refreshing breeze of the mountaintops.

Other times, however, it simply gave off a depressing aura, dampening the spirits of those beneath its reach and putting out their fiery passions.

He perked up slightly as some of the clouds began to clear, the storm thinning slightly...

Then he heard it.

The sound of airships descending upon the town.

Turning his head to stare out the alley and at the immense aircraft, the engines extended like the wings of a majestic Nevermore Grimm, a low hum resonating through the air as they lowered themselves from their lofty perches in preparation for the flood of students that would come with the dawn.

The airships that would take this year's graduates to Beacon Academy.

Pursing his lips, Vic stood, twitching as his hand brushed by the folded weapon that he had strapped to his belt, hanging on the right side of his waist and strapped further to his leg.

There was no more room - and more importantly, no more time - for doubts. Or for fears of what might happen in the future.

For better or for worse, he was getting on one of those ships.

It wasn't like he had anything else to lose at this point.

Nothing he hadn't already given up, anyways.


	2. Prologue II: View

I do not own RWBY or Tokyo Ghoul or the content of either one.

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><p>NARRATOR<p>

If there was one thing that impressed Sasaki Nise about Beacon Academy at this point, it was that they certainly knew how to make a first impression. Never before had he seen airships so grand in his young life of seventeen years, and though it was foreign and admittedly somewhat intimidating, it certainly wasn't threatening.

Staring down at the valley floor far below through orbs of teal, littered with forest and split in two by a winding river, he couldn't help but feel humbled by the view, the cool air crisp in his lungs.

It would be the perfect place to meditate...

If it weren't for the droning of the holographic televisions, that is.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, the boy opted instead to shake his head, having grown accustomed to the weight of the bastardized topknot-ponytail that he had used to tie back his purple hair, his simple, traditional robes of an amethyst so deep it was almost black and clashing with his more modern black pants and boots. His sleeves opened rather wide as they reached towards his wrists, each one emblazoned with a purple swallow wing, and upon his back, poking over his right shoulder, had been slung a sheathed blade of seemingly absurd proportions, the sheath and hilt matching navy blue and emblazoned in places with gold, the sword itself lacking any sort of guard, a small bead hanging from a black string on the pommel of the hilt. If it had not been for the lack of a curve that the nodachi should have possessed, the tip would have dragged along the ground.

The skin of his face and the front of his neck was caucasian, as can be; however, the edges of his face and the sides of his neck were more tanned, and grew significantly darker as they reached farther back, darkening almost completely as one looked closer to his spine.

Strange features to be sure, but nothing overly outlandish. There were stranger things.

Now if only there were a way to shut those televisions off that didn't involve him shelling out his wallet to pay for property damage...

"Stupid, isn't it?"

"Hm?" Sasaki blinked, roused from his musings by the sudden appearance of the newcomer.

He leaned back against the thick glass of the window, his white eyebrows arching downwards in a distinct frown, shifting his weight, legs tense beneath his blue jeans, as though ready to break into a sprint at a moment's notice. His arms were crossed over the black vest and colourless hooded jacket he wore, the back of the former bearing what Sasaki assumed to be his symbol - a twisting, sky blue tail that wrapped around itself, a small, frill-like ridge running along the top as it tied itself in an intricate knot, slowly tapering into a pair of prongs, one longer than the other. What was visible of his dark eyes beneath his mixed strands of sky blue and glacial white hair fixed on one of the televisions, his fingers twitching, "The White Fang."

Though he said nothing beyond that, there was enough context in the tone of his voice for Sasaki to catch the meaning behind his words.

Turning on his heel towards the hologram, Sasaki studied the report for a moment, eyes fixed upon the crimson Grimm head that had been spray painted on a white backdrop, some woman by the name of Lisa Lavender speaking about things about the organization that he was certain anyone above the age of eight that was capable of learning basic mathematics already knew.

Shrugging, the purple-clad boy turned to his smaller counterpart, "It is a shame. To think that such violence could originate from a group that had started out so docile."

The boy shook his head, straightening, "That's not my point," he reasoned, turning his dark eyes to lock with the taller boy's teal ones, unhindered by the height difference between them - being only two inches short of six feet tall, Sasaki towered over the newcomer, who stood just over five and a half feet, "My point is that they're only feeding the flames. They're just making things worse for everyone around them, and one of these days, it's going to come back and bite them on the ass. And then it will end in tears for everyone who's left."

An eyebrow raised on the strange skinned boy's forehead, "You speak as though you know from experience."

This time, it was Sasaki who was on the receiving end of the halfhearted shrug, "More or less. I've been through enough to know that violence breeds more violence."

"An odd thing to say for someone training to become a warrior."

"That depends on why you're training to become a warrior."

It wasn't the answers themselves that had Sasaki intrigued at this point; they were simple, something anyone with half a brain could come up with. It was the tone behind them.

This boy wasn't just letting these words come out of his mouth because they were convenient or simply made sense.

These responses were thought through. Carefully considered beforehand, and though he may not have come to a conclusion, the fact that he had put some thought into the concept was reinforcing his conviction.

Something rare in today's society, Sasaki found.

After a moment, he turned his body, rather than just his head, to face the newcomer, his tone even, "What is your name?"

There was a pause as the two studied one another in silence.

Finally, he removed a hand from his pockets, extending it - a form of greeting in this part of the world, Sasaki remembered.

"Vic. Vic Drakul," the hooded one stated evenly, "And you?"

After a moment, Sasaki found himself removing his hand from his sleeve, reaching out and gently clasping the hand of the smaller boy, though he tightened his grip to match the now proclaimed 'Vic' a second later, "Sasaki Nise of the Nise Clan, at your service."

Vic rose an eyebrow after they released each other from the handshake, "Nise... doesn't that mean Fake? What kind of last name is that?"

"One that my family has carried for nearly twenty five generations," Sasaki smirked.

"Not very flattering," was the muttered reply.

This elicited a chuckle from the taller boy, "At the very least, you make for good conversation, Vic Drakul."

"Please, just Vic," he huffed, "And what's that supposed to mean? You barely know anything about me. What would make me an interesting topic?"

"Not as a topic," Sasaki spoke causally, turning back to the window, "You simply seem to know what you're talking about. That's all."

"I take it you don't come across many people who do?" Vic's voice was now tinged with amusement as they stared down into the ravine.

"More often than I expect, but less often than I'd prefer."

"Is that why you're over here, all on your own?"

"In part. But mostly, it's because I didn't feel like listening to the constant droning of conversations that I'm not a part of. In comparison to that, silence is golden."

"But it's not entirely quiet here."

"Exactly the dilemma I was debating before you came along. How to shut down these televisions without facing charges or repair bills."

"You could always blame it on some other poor bastard."

At this, Sasaki snorted, clearly amused by the suggestion, "As amusing as the idea sounds, no. I doubt I'd get away with that kind of action. Aside from that, I'm not the type to let others take the fall for my actions."

Vic smiled - no longer smirking, but actually giving a friendly smile as he opened his mouth to speak-

-only to be interrupted by the sound of the holograms shutting down with a sudden blast of white noise that had both at the ready, Vic reaching for the collapsed weapon of white, gray and light blue at his thigh, Sasaki's hand clasping the hilt of his blade.

"... Well," Vic spoke, his tone even as he tried to slow his racing heart, "You got your wish."

"Indeed," Sasaki murmured, lowering his hand, though his posture was still not quite relaxed.

"Guess that goes to show that we're both pretty on edge," the Drakul murmured before turning to his companion, "You think something went wrong?"

The sound of a microphone being adjusted on the intercom, and the reactivation of the holograms were his only answer; rather than displaying the news as it once had, however, they now displayed a woman, tall and proud with fair skin and blonde hair, spectacles resting on the bridge of her nose before her intense green eyes. A white dress shirt that exposed part of her chest was accompanied by a thigh length black skirt with golden buttons on the abdomen, and a pair of equally dark leggings beneath that.

As soon as the image settled, Sasaki felt himself relax, "I would think," he reasoned, "that we are about to receive our first greeting from Beacon."

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><p>The girl stared at the see-through woman before her, uncertain of what to make of the image. She was severely tempted to reach forwards and try to grasp it, having never come across something like this. Sure, she had her scroll, but that was... different. Not to mention still relatively new to her. The only use she'd had for it so far was in downloading music.<p>

"Hello, and welcome to Beacon," she spoke, her tone not quite monotone, but not bearing any emotion that could the girl could accurately place - it was something along the line of kindness, but there was an undeniable edge that kept it from that description. Contentment, perhaps?

"My name is Glynda Goodwitch. You are a privileged few who have received the honour of being selected to attend this prestigious academy."

"Prestigious?" a voice not too far off echoed - male, from the sound of it, "Privileged few?... Well if that doesn't make this place sound like a haven for egomaniacs, I don't know what will."

"You're the one who applied to come here, so I'd keep my mouth shut if I were you."

"I know. It's just-"

The girl quickly lost interest in the conversation, not even bothering to turn her head, merely tilting it, causing some of her leaf green hair to fall into her face. Not that she cared much - she could still see perfectly fine from behind the veil of vinelike growth, her green eyes still fixed upon the hologram, hands clenching and unclenching as she rocked back and forth between her heels and the balls of her bare feet, toes spreading with every chance they had. Her long hair of green with interspersed autumn orange swayed across her back and shoulders with her movements in time with her beige clothes, a long, almost robelike top held in place by a worn sash, baggy sleeves having been rolled up so they didn't cover her hands, her pants equally baggy and worn, reaching her ankles. If it weren't for the green Beowolf claw she used as a symbol on the left side of her rather generous chest - the only truly definable feature beneath her heavy clothing - as well as how clean she appeared, one might have made the assumption that she was homeless.

An assumption that at one point had not been too far from the mark.

Pulling herself back into the present from her split second thought, Enki Anima fixed her attention back on this "Glynda", interested in what she had to say.

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><p>"Our world is experiencing an incredible time of peace, and as future Huntsmen and Huntresses, it is your duty to uphold it."<p>

The young woman had to resist the urge to snort.

A time of peace?

Only for those who were unable to recognize conflict when they saw it.

Still, she bit her tongue. At this point in time, a fight was the last thing she needed on her hands.

"You have demonstrated the courage needed for such a task," the hologram continued, "And now, it is our turn to provide you with the knowledge and the training to protect our world."

With that said, Glynda Goodwitch's image faded out of existence, and the intercom clicked off.

Heedless of the sudden excited shouts of the crowd, the woman turned on her heel, long black hair and coat mixing with the black plates on her chest, gauntlets and boots, the sword at her side glinting slightly, and stalked off.

She knew what Beacon Academy looked like.

She didn't need another reminder of days long past.

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><p>Vic gave a low whistle as his eyes fell upon the cliffs, the ocean spray far below and the clear skies high above reflecting off of one another in a beautiful clash of blues. The rivers that dug into the greenery upon the cliffs fell into great waterfalls; not too far away, a small mountain range jutted out from the earth. But what caught his eye was the collection of gray spires that had planted themselves in an almost circular fashion upon the cliff side, "So that's Beacon..."<p>

"An impressive view," Sasaki mused, "They certainly know how to introduce themselves."

"That they do."

Both fell silent once more, instead opting to simply take in the breathtaking sight, one putting aside his thoughts for the present...

The other putting aside his fear of the future.


End file.
